otherversefandomcom-20200215-history
The Gateway Eye
The Lightholder Crossroads are packed with nobles and commoners alike, gathered around a hastily constructed wooden platform outside of Solas Creek's tavern. The pudgy proprietor is currently watching the brouhaha with no small amount of disdain - prime drinking and wenching time, and the Regent wants to call everyone together for some kind of public pronouncement. The man of the hour, Zolor Zahir, emerges from the tavern and gives a courtly nod to the barman. Followed by his royal guard and a scribe carrying a wooden box, the Regent makes his way up to the platform and smiles tautly at the crowd. "Good evening, Fastheldians, well met. I have called you here to share something that can only be described as astounding." Near the back of the crowd, Sandrim has found himself a plinth beneath a lantern to stand upon, arms crossed as he watches the scene with mild interest, and mildly feigned boredom. "And what are we talking about today, good regent?" he mutters under his breath. Likely among the royal procession somewhere, the Order's Grand Master keeps his place with a sturdy posture and his hands held behind his back as he glances over toward the Regent. Norran's expression, it seems, does not appear terribly enthused. Athear stands dutifully, as always, next the Marchioness Voreyn Zahir, cold blue eyes peeled about the crowd and making sure none get too close without the Zahir's expilcit permission. Dressed and armed as he is, he makes a very good personal bodyguard. He leans close inbetween statements from the Regent. "I do not suppose you have heard any hints at what this 'astounding' item be?" he asks quietly, eyes falling to person to person while his main attention seems to, like everyone else, trained on the platform. As pleased as ever to see the Regent prowling about in someplace other than his recieving hall, Voreyn has managed to obtain a position near the front of the crowd for an unblocked view of Zolor and his aides. At her side stands her faithful guard Athear, and it is to him she turns when she is addressed. "To tell of such would ruin the surprise," she replies in a stage-whisper, reaching up to place one slender finger on her lips in a gesture for silence. The Regent motions for the scribe to approach with the wooden box. The scribe complies, placing the box on a biinwood table atop the platform. "As some of you no doubt recall, the Aegis and its curse were sundered by great magic of the ancients of our world," Zolor says. A frown touches his face. "Without doubt, you recall that I was put in a position to exchange children from Northreach in exchange for the safety of the realm at large. I did this, to my great regret, but all the while I have had servants hunting the wilds of the world for some weapon to use against our enemies and, ultimately, to liberate those children - all of them - from captivity." Lorana is tucked within the crowd, armed and armored as though going to war. Which is to say, she looks as she usually does. Full-plate armor, 7 axes, the works. Her arms are crossed loosely in front of her breastplate and her features bear an air of mild curiosity. At the mention of a weapon, though, one of her arms twitches and she quirks an eyebrow. Sandrim blinks at that, leaning further forward to peer at the regent. This, now. This peaks his interest. The leather clad teenager slips off of his post to melt into the crowd, trying his best to slip through toward the regent as quickly as he may without causing /too/ much of a scuffle. Milora Lomasa has found herself sitting as close as possible to Voreyn Zahir, listening halfheartedly while she nurses a mug full of tea. Norran's brows shoot up, the man clearly surprised as he turns to face toward the Regent now with his hands at his sides. His eyes watch the followings carefully, though he now appears visibly more interested than he was before. The assassin turned guard allows only the slightest of a short, dry chuckle. Athear nods to Voreyn once, before his eyes go back to Zolor, awaiting what such a miraclous thing might be contained within that box. Subhan Lomasa is dressed as a Lady heading off to court may be, dress trailing behind her with it's magnificent train, skirts obscuring her feet. A quick scan brings Norran into her sight, and she slips through to pop up beside him, the woman listening to The Regent in pointed silence. Zolor Zahir is oblivious to the low droning in the evening sky as he opens the box. He takes from it a glass cylinder, which contains a pulsating orb of blue-white energy. "It is called the Gateway Eye. When it opens, they say, enemies are vanquished. They are cast to the winds and forgotten." He braces top and bottom of the cylinder with his palms as he displays it to the crowd. "We will take this device to the Wildlands and..." His voice trails off as he finally gets distracted by the growing noise coming from the sky to the north. A vessel is aloft, but descending, with a gondola and gas bag, directly toward Zolor and the platform. For once, the Regent is struck speechless. Looking off to her side, Voreyn reaches out to place a hand on Milora's shoulder, smiling at her friend quietly and squeezing the woman's shoulder in excitement before looking back to the Regent. Her eyes glitter with a fierce amusement, and she casts subtle glances about the crowd to study the many expressions present. Yet even she is taken aback by the sound and sight of the approaching zeppelin. "What the..." Sandrim pauses himself, nearby to Lorana, to glance up at the sky as well. "Okay... Is... that one of the enemies he was talking about?" A questioning look registered by the quirked brow of Athear, he doesn't seem too sure what to make of it. However, that mental pondering is quickly dashed, the looming shadow casted by the large flying contraption. Protecivly, he takes a step infront of Voreyn, for all the good it'll do. Which is to say, is little. But at least he's doing his job. Attention also drawn to the noise, Lorana frowns, emerald eyes widening at the sight. "What in the Light's name...?" she starts glancing briefly Sandrim's way, "I don't know, but whatever it is it makes me exceedingly uneasy..." She starts trying to muscle her way forward through the crowd, toward Zolor. Norran stares also at the new 'weapon', then at the airship, but reacts soon enough. "One of the airships that crashed here months ago? Shades," he growls, turning to Zolor's guard. "ARCHERS! READY YOUR ARROWS! PROTECT THE REGENT! Everyone: Stay back!" he bellows to the crowd, making his way through the procession toward Zolor. "Your Grace! We must take to shelter!" Subhan startles with a little yelp as Norran starts forward so suddenly, and bellowing so. One hand goes to her chest as she tries to regain her wits, breath coming in quick, corset restrained flutters. The Lady takes a step back, staring with wide eyes. "Careful," Zolor growls as he's bumped by the panicked scribe. The Gateway Eye wobbles in his grasp. He looks toward Norran. "Of course, you are right." Zolor gives one last glance at the incoming aircraft and says, "Fire at w..." The last word is cut off by a CRUNCH as a plank in the platform gives beneath his right foot. He stumbles. The glass cylinder spins out of his hands and arcs toward the cobblestone at Solas Creek's feet. The proprietor sees it coming, ducks inside the tavern, and slams the door. The Gateway Eye smashes into thousands of shards, the energy within erupting in a blinding splash of blue-white that engulfs everyone in the square and leaves them, for the moment, in a swirling maelstrom of glowing cerulean - seemingly each person alone and lost, without solid ground for purchase. Sandrim keeps running for the platform. It is only a moment later that he reacts to the fact that, in fact, he is basically kicking around in free space. "Wha...? Wha-What happened? What did he do?" "Oh honestly, I would imagine we have bigger problems," Voreyn mutters beneath her breath, jolting too as Norran's sudden hollering catches her off her guard. Her own heart palpitations require a sentiment similar to Subhan's, and the Marchioness places a hand to her corseted bosom as she attempts to catch her breath. And yet too soon she is, no doubt, made aware of the truth behind her words. When the cylinder crashes, the woman throws her hands up to protect her face, and it takes a moment before she pulls them away and is left staggering and blinking at the brightness of the void that has swallowed her. "I regret nothing!" "Your Highness!," Lorana starts as the Regent stumbles, surging forward until... bright light, swirling cerulean, and the ground lost from beneath her feet! The Lomasa gasps, wide-eyed and trying to look in every direction at once. "Wha-? Your Highness? Grand Master! ANYONE?!" She reaches to the throwing axes tucked into her belt and wraps hands around the handles, as though for comfort. Instinctively, Milora jumps up. In a moment her bow is ready and an arrow is being nocked as she searches for her potential target. Athear is floating? The last thing he seems to recall was watching that cylinder fly across the room in almost slow motion. When it crashes, he shields his eyes with his hand, before the light envelops him along with everything else. A moment later, he floats, adrift in odd space. "So...is this death?" he ponders aloud, perhaps someone will answer. Subhan takes one more step back before she finds herself in a void, drifting without purchase. Short and startled, the woman shrieks, then does what any delicate Lady would - Faints. In the midst of a rush to take away the Regent, Norran finds that his target...has vanished. Actually, everything seems to have vanished. He reaches to draw his sword - maybe? - staring at the light. "Shades...what is this? Have I been blinded? Guardsman! Your Grace! Can anyone hear me?" calls out Norran, before growing silent as he restricts his movements. "Huh, am I dead?" Sandrim asks in the tones of one who has not quite fully come to appreciate his situation. He whirls around, doing what could be called flips were there any frame of reference due to his kickoff before. The young man considers it for a while, before numbly saying, "Well, at least I didn't die a virgin." Clutching her bow for dear life, Milora squeezes her eyes shut tight. "NORRAN!" she cries out. "VOREYN! I love you!" As far as last words go, those are probably as good as any. There's a sense of shifting...a tug back and forth through time and space - flashes of memories, visions of stars as they live and die, great circles of stone in space engraved with glowing blue runes - and then the ground starts to feel firm beneath your feet again. The world around you starts taking shape once more. And it looks...not at all the same... ---- Comorro Station isn't exactly a station. It doesn't remain in any one place for a significant span of time. It is, in all accuracy, a massive starship - incapable of atmospheric flight - that has been roaming the stars on a voyage that some say has lasted for more than 90-million years. The vessel is a Yaralu, a sentient spacefaring vessel. Her true full name cannot be spoken in a single day, but is shortened for convenience to Comorro. Several epochs ago, after her final era of fertility ended, she converted the gray-green ribbed chamber of her womb into a docking hub for smaller Yaralu and non-organic vessels. She made it known to the denizens of Hiverspace that she would serve as a neutral outpost for traders and diplomats. Use of energy and projectile weapons is prohibited aboard Comorro. Violators will be absorbed into the vessel's nutrient replenishment matrix. She is capable of monitoring almost all chambers within the station for illegal weapons, but some areas - such as the Forgotten Quarter - are lost to her neural pathways and sensory organs. ---- Vasco comes in from the Artemis, he walks down the ramp, he has some scanners on his hand, and a backpack on his back, a stungun is on a holster on his waist, that is when he notice the blue light. "Huh... Kamir work?" Promply the first thing that he do is turn on his most generalist scanner and point to the light. Tharsis nods to Jest. "Yes.. there were three of us..." he says. "They... eh?" he stops in mid sentence, looking at the appearance of the swirling light and those emerging from it. "It would seem the rifts are not yet done with their work..." The light fades, leaving some very confused people. Some of them passed out on the ground. Category: Comorro Station Arrival